Mouths Making Foreign Sounds
by scarlettshazam
Summary: Everybody's slept with Kenny McCormick. One night, boyfriends Craig and Tweek decide that it's a good idea to make the two of them the three of them instead - and invite Kenny to join them in the bedroom. Porn PWP. Oneshot.


**Soundtrack: Tongues – Joywave**

_**Mouths Making Foreign Sounds**_

It's gray outside and cold as fuck, as is standard in January in South Park. This means a hell of a lot more customers for Harbucks, which means a hell of a lot more work for Tweek. He makes a record-breaking amount of drinks and though he stresses over making them wrong every time he hands off a beverage to a customer, it's good to be busy.

It's near closing time when Craig sidles in, smelling of cheap cigarettes and pizza. This time, fortunately, Tweek does not have his back to the door, and is not surprised when his significant other slash boyfriend slash whatever they are ruffles his hair and kisses his jaw like it's going out of style.

"C-Craig, what are you doing?" Tweek asks, and starts to laugh when Craig just presses more, smaller kisses along the column of his throat.

"Kissing you, stupid," answers Craig.

"I'm not stupid!" Tweek says back, "You're stupid."

Craig rolls his eyes and dumps his backpack onto one of the tables that Tweek just bussed. He slides back in the booth with an easy grin and a scratch of his fingers into the black hair underneath his hat, and then says, "Hey, can I have some black coffee?"

"I'm trying to close the fucking store, _Craig_," is how Tweek responds. This is generally how most of their conversations go – they bicker a lot, but that's okay. Fighting with Craig doesn't stress Tweek out like fighting with other people does, because he knows that Craig mostly isn't serious. He's just trying to get Tweek's goat for laughs.

Well, ha ha.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Craig says with a wave of his hand, "C'mon, man. Just one eensy-weensy black coffee."

"Fine," Tweek mutters. He abandons his rag to retreat to the barista station, pouring Craig a small paper cup of what's left of the coffee of the day. It'll be a little stale now that it's been sitting there for a while, but it still smells nice. Plus Craig doesn't seem to care if things are stale or having been sitting out for too long anyway. That kind of freaks Tweek out, but whatever. Craig's weird.

It's part of his appeal. Bebe says she doesn't get what Tweek sees in Craig. She says he's a lazy, weed-smoking tool with too much acne and not enough to offer, but that's her business. Tweek likes that Craig doesn't make fun of him when he stammers, likes that they can kick back and watch weird movies together, likes that Craig doesn't think he's crazy when he starts on a speech about UFO sightings in the past year. Bebe can say all that she wants, but Craig is decent.

And, you know. Kind of sexy looking. Not that Tweek intends to ever say that to Craig's stupid, irritating, coffee-demanding face, but whatever. Craig knows Tweek thinks he's sexy and Tweek knows Craig thinks he's sexy, though Tweek has to be told a few more times than Craig ever needs to hear the words.

Tweek slides the coffee to Craig, who inhales the steam curling out of the cup. He nurses along the rim while Tweek works along the rest of the tables. When he rolls the mop out from the backroom and starts working from the back of the store to the front, Craig says, "You fucked Kenny, right?"

"Not recently," Tweek says, sliding his gaze over to Craig. He lifts a brow and adds, "But y-yeah, dumbo. Everybody's fucked Kenny."

"True," Craig says. He's silent for a minute, sipping his coffee before he says, "He call you anything when you guys did it?"

"Like what?"

"Dunno, like. 'Baby,' or whatever. That kind of shit," Craig says.

"Sweetheart," Tweek replies, when he thinks back on it, "He called me sweetheart."

Everyone makes fun of how much Kenny sleeps around, but the truth of it is that anybody that actually has slipped between the sheets with Kenny McCormick has, without a doubt, enjoyed their experience. Kenny's a giver in bed, everyone knows that. He asks you what you like and pays attention to what makes you tick, and for whatever reason, unraveling you and pulling you apart gets him off. He's a strange dude, but a good one. When he and Tweek fucked, they were at Tweek's for some stupid English project that both of them had to do or they wouldn't pass the class. They ended up building a blanket fort in the living room and then having sex in it, thereby causing the fort's collapse.

But it was fun. Definitely one of the best sexual experiments that Tweek has ever had.

"Huh," Craig says, and thumbs along the rim of his cup.

"Yeah," Tweek adds, but doesn't know why.

For a moment, silence slides in between them, and the only noise in the entirety of Harbucks is the slick slap of the mop as Tweek wets it and moves in back and forth across the tile.

Then Craig muses, "I wonder what it would be like to have a threesome with him."

"Probably pretty awesome," Tweek shrugs.

"That's it?" Craig says, and narrows his eyes, "Probably pretty awesome?"

"Well, he's good at sex. It's his t-thing," Tweek says, "That and traumatic injuries. I-It's a fucking miracle that he's never died, dude." Any time that Kenny pulls any sort of dangerous stunt, it gives Tweek a heart attack. He and Kenny aren't _friends_, necessarily, but he doesn't want the dude to die. And still, he's always doing crazy crap on his skateboard or bike or parkouring or whatever the fuck he calls it.

If Tweek tried any of those things, he'd be full of replacement limbs by now. That's why he likes to keep it safe – Craig, boring old Craig, who likes to kick back on the couch and marathon movies together until they fall asleep, preferably tangled up with one another.

"I bet you wouldn't do it," Craig says.

Tweek pauses mopping to eye him, "Do what?"

"Have a threesome with Kenny," Craig says, "You, me, McCormick. You'd totally chicken out."

An indignant noise tears from Tweek's throat before he can even stop it. He puts a hand on one hip and says, "I w-would _not_ 'chicken out,' Craig! You're stupid."

"You're stupid," Craig says back, "And you would so. Watch," Craig pulls his scuffed-up cellphone from the left pocket of his jeans and flips it open. He looks Tweek dead in the eye and monotones, "I'm gonna text him right now. See if he's free. Tell him to meet us at your place for a hot orgy. You gonna stop me?"

Tweek folds his arms over his chest and just shakes his head. He knew he was going to get laid tonight anyway – his parents don't care what he does in his bedroom – if they add one more to the party, then so what? It'll probably be awesome, just like he told Craig it would be.

Craig makes a face but glances back at his phone. He narrates what he's doing the whole time ("Dear McCormick: Threesome at Tweek's place?" and "I'm about to hit send. You gonna stop me?"). Tweek does not stop him.

Tweek rolls his eyes when Craig announces that he's sent the text, and moves on to empty the dirty mop water over the drain in the back and stash the cleaning supplies back in their appropriate places. When he returns, hands scrubbed thoroughly clean (Jesus, he hates having the closing shift. Everything is so unsanitary), Craig clears his throat and announces: "Kenny says it sounds like a date and he'll see us motherfuckers in twenty."

"Okay," Tweek says.

"Okay?" Craig echoes.

"Okay," Tweek confirms. Jesus Christ, Craig is so dumb sometimes.

Tweek shuts off all the lights on the inside of Harbucks before Craig picks up his backpack and they head out the door, locking everything up behind them. The journey to Tweek's house is pretty quick – it always is in a town as tiny as this one – but on a mid-winter night, it's kind of cold as balls and seems significantly less short. Craig pulls his cigarettes out from the front pocket of his coat and offers one to Tweek, which he takes as they walk.

His hands shake as he smokes, but at least the nicotine does something to soothe his nerves. They shiver all the way back to Tweek's house, exhaling clouds of smoke into the frigid air, and standing closer than strictly necessary, to share body heat, maybe, or maybe it's because when Tweek is close to Craig, he remembers how soothed his frayed nerves are. Craig is a rock to cling to. He may be an asshole rock, but he's a good rock, too.

So Tweek says, "You're a good rock."

Craig's brows rise straight into his dark, greasy hair and he says, "Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome, I think," Tweek replies, and leans over to kiss Craig on his stupid cheek.

They keep on for a couple of minutes without speaking, smoking and trading soft, secret smiles with one another. Eventually, though, Tweek can't contain his curiosity. He asks, "What's with your thing with Kenny, anyway? Like, why a t-threesome?"

Craig eyes him, "Why? You chickening out, chicken?"

"No, I'm not chickening out," protests Tweek, "I'm just wondering."

Craig shrugs, "I dunno, man. Two hot blonds naked with you? You do the math."

That makes sense. Tweek definitely likes the idea of being nude in a bed with both Kenny and Craig, not only because they're both attractive dudes that know their way around a dick, but because they're so different. Craig can be kind of a dick in real life, but he's awkward and…sweet? Sweet in bed. Kenny's nice outside the bedroom, but in it he's feisty and bitey and a lot of the naughty things that Tweek, quite frankly, enjoys.

Kenny is sitting on the curb shivering in his threadbare coat when they reach Tweek's house, cigarette between his lips. He smiles when they approach, winks, and asks, "Hey boys, you ready to warm me up? 'Cause it's fucking cold as balls out here."

"Quit bitching," Craig says, and flicks the end of his cigarette into the street.

Kenny licks his fingers and pinches the end of his cigarette to put it out, before he replaces it in the package and slips that back into his coat pocket. Kenny was never one to waste even the smallest thing. He starts to crack his knuckles as they walk up to the house together, popping one finger at a time, until in the entryway of the Tweak household, Tweek finally snaps, "Cut that out, jackass!"

Kenny just smirks back at him and pops the knuckle on his last finger.

Craig punches Kenny in the shoulder and says, "Hey, you listen to him when he asks you to do something, McCormick. Douche."

"Hey, whoa, gentlemen," Kenny says, and holds up his hands, "You were the ones that called me here, if we'll just go back like, twenty minutes ago. I'm here for _your_ weird kinky needs, so don't y'all take your shit out on me."

"Whatever," Craig says, at the same time that Tweek rolls his eyes. A warm rush of affection surges through him at his boyfriend's snark – that's the Craig that he loves, the one that snaps to his defense when people are being jerks to him. He rubs Craig's forearm and smiles at him. Craig tries not to smile back, but Tweek can see the barest tilt up of his lips.

"All right, we gonna do this thing?" Kenny asks, all grins and sexual confidence.

"Yeah," Tweek says, "Upstairs."

They move to Tweek's room. It's kind of a wreck. There are clothes on the carpet and his school stuff is all over. His parrot flutters and cocks his head when they enter the bedroom, and Tweek gives him a sidelong 'don't you dare,' glance. He feels kind of bad that Jensen has to witness this all, but whatever, he's a parrot. Does he even know what the hell is going on when Tweek fucks Craig or Craig fucks Tweek or when Kenny joins in and everybody's fucking everybody?

Kenny strips off his coat and his worn out Metallica t-shirt before anybody can even say a word. Tweek and Craig both stare as he undoes his fly with long fingers and pulls down both underwear and holey jeans in one smooth movement. He isn't hard yet, but the sight of skinny, naked Kenny with his hands on his hips and his brow cocked still does a number on Tweek. His throat goes dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth, like it can't quite fit.

Out of nowhere, Tweek blurts, "I wanna be fucked! Can I be fucked?"

Craig and Kenny exchange a glance.

"Like…both of us?" Craig asks.

An intense image of Craig and Kenny taking turns on him floods Tweek's brain before he can stop it, erotic and perfect and red hot, making him simmer under his skin. It's the kind of stuff that he saves for the deepest corners of his spank bank, the naughty part of his brain that wants to sub for a guy, let his dom use him up and push him into the headspace that he craves, and knowing just how to pull him back to reality.

Tweek licks his chapped lips and nods with a quiet, "Yes please."

"Shit, dude," Kenny says, "You kinky little fucker."

"Yeah," Tweek agrees.

Craig glances over him and makes a kind of face. Tweek sticks his tongue out at him.

"Strip," Craig says, voice flat and firm.

Tweek looks over at him, blinks back to Kenny, and then back to Craig again.

"You heard me," Craig says, "Strip."

Tweek swallows the knot in his throat. He can feel his face flush with what blood hasn't gone straight between his legs. Christ, he's hard. He's really hard. The tone of command in Craig's voice alone could make him come, but he doesn't want to do that, not before he gets his way.

So he obeys. He undoes the buttons on his coat with shaking fingers and lets it drop to the ground. His black work polo follows, and one by one, the rest of his clothing items puddle on the floor. He should feel weird like this, maybe, being naked and hard as a stone in plain sight of a very naked not-boyfriend and a still clothed actual-boyfriend.

"Get on the bed," Craig says. His voice is breathy and low, the way that it gets when he's turned on. Tweek's eyes, before he can stop them, flick down to his jeans, where the clear, hard line of Craig's erection strains against the denim. That alone is enough to get him to listen to the command. He doesn't know how Craig wants him, and almost gets on his back until Craig adds, "On your knees."

When Tweek does it, he hears Kenny murmurs, "Shit," behind him, and smirks just a little.

Then Kenny says, "I wanna fuck him. Can I fuck him?"

Tweek, though he faces his Spiderman sheets, can almost see Craig lift his brows as he replies, "Which end?"

Holy shit, that's sexy. Why is that so sexy? Craig shouldn't be allowed to be this sexy. It isn't fair at all.

"Ass," Kenny says, "Want his ass. God, dude, look at how much he wants it."

Tweek holds back a moan.

"Cool," Craig says, "Then I've got his mouth. You wanna get him opened up or should I?"

"Let me do it," Kenny says, "You got lube?"

Tweek hears the sound of Craig shuffling around in Tweek's sock drawer, where they have their sex stuff stashed away – not that he cares if his parents see it. He knows his mom and dad have got much worse crap hidden in their closet, and he has no interest in finding out what, exactly, that crap entails. He and Craig have got a couple different kinds of lube, a purple vibrator that may or may not be broken as it kind of sounds like a lawn mower, a very expensive silicone tentacle dildo, and of course, condoms.

It's not the biggest collection, but it makes Tweek happy, and if Tweek is happy, then Craig is happy.

"You wanna use a toy, McCormick?" Craig calls over his shoulder.

Kenny responds, "Nah, I'll just use my magic fingers."

A handful of seconds later, the mattress sags under Kenny's weight behind Tweek. Craig rounds to his front. He isn't wearing his jacket anymore, but he still has his t-shirt and jeans on. With gentle fingers Craig strokes over his hair and down the side of his face, over the curve of Tweek's cheek and to his lips, where he presses his thumb.

Obediently, Tweek opens his mouth.

A satisfied half-smile rises up on Craig's face. His hands drift down to his jeans, where he starts to open his fly. Tweek stares, but before he can focus too much on it, Kenny's hands stroke down his ass, palming over the cheeks, where he squeezes and parts them. The pop of the cap on the lube sounds in the quiet of the bedroom, and Tweek inhales sharply.

Just as Craig shifts down his underwear and jeans, only enough to take his cock out, Tweek feels the first breach of Kenny's hand. A single, slick finger presses into him, careful and expert. Out of habit more than anything, Tweek starts to press back into it, demanding more. At this, Kenny swats the side of his ass and says, "You get what I give you. Stop that."

Tweek shivers, but stops. Kenny goes slow on purpose. He should be mad, but it turns him on so much that it's difficult to be upset. His finger never quite goes far enough before he pulls back again, massaging, concentrated, gradual…Jesus Christ, this is killing him.

He might actually die when the head of Craig's erection is pushed to his lips. Or maybe he's already dead. Maybe Tweek has already died and gone to heaven, because this surely is what heaven is like. Or maybe this is hell. That's where the hedonists go, isn't it? Oh well, if this is hell, then he loves it. He loves Craig's salty, musky, masculine taste as the head of his cock slides into his mouth. Tweek loves that just as he tries to focus on sucking on Craig's dick that Kenny's finger hits the sweet spot inside him.

The sensation is overwhelming. Kenny has two fingers inside of him now, and he's not teasing as much as he was. Now he's fucking his fingers inside Tweek at a steady pace. He knows just how to touch Tweek, just like he knows how to touch everybody. His skilled fingers strum against Tweek's prostate, opening him up, making his toes curl. He wants to wriggle up against those fingers, bury them deeper inside himself, but if he bucks up into Kenny's touch, then he can't have enough of Craig's cock in his mouth.

He has to take what they give him, Tweek reminds himself.

So Tweek relaxes under the touch. He lets Craig slowly slide his cock further and further into his mouth, sucks and tries to hum between the whimpers and moans that Kenny teases out of him as the two fingers stretching him open increase to three. He's stretched on both sides, taking more and more.

Craig's hips stutter when Tweek lets out a helpless moan around him, and he threads his hands back in Tweek's hair, pulling up on it. He gasps, "Shit. Wow."

That's as much praise from Craig as Tweek has just about ever heard – usually Craig likes to express his affection in other, less vocal ways. But as Tweek takes the continuous pump of Kenny's fingers into his ass, and the rolls of Craig's hips thrusting his cock into his mouth, Craig goes on, "Good…good job. You can take it. Good."

There's another kink to add to the ever-growing list: being praised by Craig, in his nasally, monotonous voice.

Kenny's fingers slide out of him. Tweek whimpers at the loss of sensation but Craig thrusts into his mouth just at the moment, distracting him from the cold emptiness that the absence of Kenny's hand leaves. He can hear the familiar rip of a condom packet, feels Kenny rustling around behind him as he rolls it on, and then the sound of lube again.

Then the tip of Kenny's cock begins to press into him, and Tweek _really_ moans. He fists the bedsheets beneath him, silently apologizes for Spiderman for having to witness all this, and throws himself into the work. He sucks and bobs his head, taking Craig's cock past his lips and into his throat, letting Craig pick up the pace and start to pound into him.

Behind him, Kenny slides home. He allows a couple of seconds for Tweek to adjust, but then grips Tweek's hips with his warm palms, draws back, and slams back in. There's little Tweek can do now but moan and take it, feel the cock pounding into his ass at the same time as a cock rolls into his mouth. Their rhythms aren't in sync, and that makes it even better, even sexier as he tries to guess what he's going to get next.

"So fucking sexy, sweetheart," Kenny says, and rubs ones palm over Tweek's lower back.

Sweetheart.

That turns Tweek on more than should be legal.

"Good," Craig says, "Open up for me. Good."

All at once the sensation rains over him, belly exploding with feeling as Tweek comes fucking _untouched_ into his sheets. He'd scream if his mouth wasn't full – instead, he focuses on paying attention to Craig so that he can come, too.

"Holy shit," Kenny says, "Did he just come?"

"I think so," Craig says, "Fuck. Wow."

That just makes Tweek want to work harder. He takes Kenny's cock even when he starts to get rougher, nails biting into Tweek's back, pace quickening, thrusts getting deeper and ever deeper. It feels amazing and hurts all at once and Tweek loves it, loves every second of it.

"Oh," Kenny murmurs, "Shit. I'm gonna come, dude."

Tweek clenches around Kenny's dick for good measure, and lightning-quick, Kenny bucks up into Tweek one last time, buried inside him to the hilt as he comes. He makes a noise both pained and pleasured and rubs Tweek's back the whole time. He mutters to Tweek, "So fuckin' good, sweetheart, so good."

Craig takes the opportunity to thrust harder into Tweek's mouth. Sloppily, Tweek lifts up off of Kenny's cock just enough to control his work on Craig just a little more. He sucks him into his mouth, clutches at Craig's naked ass. He tastes so damn good, smells so damn good, right here between his legs. It's all _Craig_, just himself, just skin and salt.

Craig, unlike Kenny, does not give a warning when he comes. He shoots his load straight in the back of Tweek's throat, and if Tweek wasn't used to him doing that, he may have choked. Instead, he pulls off of Craig's cock and swallows like a champ, smiling as he rises up onto his knees and wipes the spit on his lips away with the back of his hand.

"Good?" he asks, a general question.

"Fucking awesome," Kenny says. Tweek turns around in time to watch Kenny climb up off of the covers and toss his condom into the trashcan beside Tweek's desk.

He comes back, though. That's another odd quirk of Kenny's. After he fucks, he likes to cuddle. Tweek doesn't mind, at least most of the time. He likes to cuddle, and from time to time Craig sees fit to indulge him. Now must be one of those times, because after he does his pants back up and sits on the mattress with his legs sprawled in front of him, he jerks his head at Tweek and opens his arms.

Tweek crawls over and places his head in Craig's lap, looping his skinny arms around his waist, so he can press his cheek to the little bit of softness of Craig's belly. Kenny inches up behind Tweek and spoons him.

Just barely, Tweek feels Kenny's lips on his neck.

Craig's hand is in Tweek's hair, stroking, but when Tweek looks up, Craig's gaze is elsewhere, and the blush is high on his cheeks.

Kenny seems to sense that something is maybe a little uncomfortable, because he asks, "How was that for you, Tucker?"

Craig snorts and says, "Good, I guess. But uh. Kinda. Awkward."

Kenny lets out a full-belly laugh, and Tweek can't help but join in. He pokes a finger into Craig's side and says into his stomach, "Aren't you the one that said _I_ would chicken out? You stupid chicken."

"I am not a chicken," Craig says, enunciating every word. His face is red up to the ears now as he continues to protest, "It's just weird, you know. With two people. At once."

Kenny keeps laughing and asks, "What the hell? Did nobody tell you a threesome has three people in it?"

"Oh, eat shit," Craig says.

"All right, all right," Kenny says, and slides back up into a sitting position, "I've had my fun. You got any food in this place? I'm fucking starving and I think Craig would feel better if he didn't have to be in bed with two naked guys."

"That's not –" Craig begins.

Kenny waves him off and climbs off of the mattress to pull his plaid boxers back over his hips. He says, "Let's play Mario Kart or some shit."

"T-there are Pizza Rolls in the freezer," Tweek adds.

Craig exhales, though it's quiet enough that Tweek can only barely hear it. He studies Kenny as he dresses and Tweek, still naked in his lap, and says at last, "Yeah. I'm gonna fuck you up, McCormick."

"You wish."

**X**

**Hey all – this is a commission fic for the lovely Nick. If you would also like to commission a oneshot from me, feel free to contact me at .com. **


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